When it was never saidit was for the bestto come off second bestand stand in the corner like a manwho words had already failed twice in an eveningand proceeds to finish his drink and leavehis only wish to be forgotten along with his deeds,both good and bad,and be reborn in another placewith new skin and fresh bonesto make the same mistakes in the years still to comethat had already passed him byspent alonein hindsight, squanderedlike a meandering metaphor straying too far from the original conceptonly to reveal the concern that 25 is now closer than 18